


Flux (in for a penny)

by junonreactor



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: AU, Altered States, Anal Sex, Angeal and Genesis are there for 5 seconds and then leave, Bizarro Sephiroth, Cannibalism, Come Shot, Consentacles, Frottage, Gore, M/M, Multiple Penetration, Oral Sex, S-Lazard, Sephiroth is a one-man gangbang, Soul Bond, Sounding, Tentacles, They Eat Jenova, Transformation, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21645481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junonreactor/pseuds/junonreactor
Summary: Reunion AU. A better-informed Sephiroth and his S-cell allies eat Jenova, resulting in a transformation that's rather "bizarre".
Relationships: Lazard Deusericus/Sephiroth
Kudos: 30





	Flux (in for a penny)

**Author's Note:**

> This depends on an AU where Lazard accidentally gets dosed with Sephiroth's cells, turning him a bit reunion-y. Instead of withholding Hollander's information from Sephiroth, he tells him about the Jenova Project and the anti-Shinra plot. After an obligate bit of stress for everyone, the result is Sephiroth crushing the Company, and going to Nibelheim to deal with Jenova knowing exactly what she is, with SOLDIER as his family and his allies supporting him.
> 
> ...And then it gets real freaky. Read and heed the warnings.
> 
> [further reunion AU fic and art on over on tumblr, for context](https://makotuesday.tumblr.com/tagged/reunion-au)

Sephiroth smashed the glass, pulled out the ancient creature within. All but Sephiroth staggered, wincing as it screamed without voice, its indignation cold, vapor-thin, piercing directly into their heads -- to his right Angeal had fallen to his knees, to his left Genesis was bleeding from his nose. Lazard's vision went black. He didn't feel his head collide with the reactor floor, but the stars he saw were very real, whipping past as superluminary speeds, a burning brocade of hydrogen fire in the night, lights of green life like candles leading up a midnight hallway to -- to --

The screaming cut out with a wet crunch. Lazard struggled to sit up, vision still swimming gray and peppered with phosphenes. Angeal cried out faintly. "Sephiroth! Wait! You won't be able to come back from this."

Familiar boots tapped on the grating, stopping near him; Lazard used Sephiroth's leg, planted like a tree near deep water, to steady himself. Something wet and ice cold, smelling of mako and ozone, dripped onto his head and slithered down his neck.

"I know," Sephiroth said. "We've come this far together, my friends. If you don't want to proceed any further, I certainly won't force you. Our bond is already more than enough, and I thank you. But I have to go on."

Lazard touched the cold wetness on his neck, and his fingers came away slick with something opal-colored, slippery and faintly glowing. He craned his head to look up. Sephiroth cradled the mangled corpse in his arms. Its crushed head was dripping onto Lazard. Another drop of the cold fluid splashed above his eyes, running in a rivulet down his nose and cheek.

Sephiroth crunched into the ancient body again, this time with his teeth. He tore into Jenova patiently, systematically, tearing chunks of the half-crystalized flesh as if it were nothing more than damp paper and swallowing them whole. Angeal stood and lurched away, shaking, hand clutched against his mouth -- whether to keep something in or out, Lazard could not tell.

"Give me some," Genesis demanded. "She is the original source, the Gift; she will cure me."

Sephiroth offered his ichor and flesh-gobbed gloved right hand; Genesis began to lick it clean. Lazard watched him suck Sephiroth's fingers with a stab of jealousy, rising to unsteady feet, having to use Sephiroth's slippery coat and buckles as a scaffold.

Sephiroth smiled at him, his lower face smeared with blue-gray and dark, long-dead red, his teeth very white in his black mouth and eyes bright, brighter than anything else in this mako-hazed room, bright as daylight and regarding him with unadulterated fondness.

"Genesis, take this to the other SOLDIERs." Sephiroth withdrew his hand, instead giving the black-winged First the rest of the dripping, shredded corpse. "Use no coercion. Let whoever wants come and take what they like. Whoever prefers not to, let them be; they already have their share."

Genesis nodded; his eyes were blazing too, like blue-hot fire, his wing flicking, primaries spread. He turned, and as his footsteps receded down the long stairs below, Lazard heard Angeal call out and descend with him.

"Like Angeal noted, you cannot go back from this." Sephiroth held Lazard away from his gory chest, wiping Lazard's forehead and cheek carefully with one of the ends of his silk cravat. It was still odd, when Sephiroth responded to his unvoiced, half-formed intentions, as reasonably and clearly as if Lazard had already asked him permission.

Odd, but he was getting comfortable with it.

"In for a penny, in for a pound," Lazard said, and kissed him. He tasted like -- nothing that different. A faint, cold prickle of mako, no stronger than the mako smell already rising from the reactor core a few stories below. A fugitive stain of sharpness, ionization, again more smell than taste. It was just Sephiroth, the same as a thousand kisses before, the same tongue, the same teeth and lips, the same taste that had driven him in intense pursuit of the SOLDIER even before he'd had their now-shared cells proliferating in his body, binding them as inextricably as warp and weft.

When he pulled away, he saw a trail of faint light linger between them, like the afterimage of a flash. He blinked, rubbed his eyes; it was still there. Sephiroth hummed, and Lazard knew he saw it, too. He brushed his thumb in an arc across Sephiroth's still-wet cheek; the light fluttered there, too, faint as the lightning bugs that hung in the night jungles of Wutai, or the luminescent zoöplankton in the southern waves off Mideel.

He could hear Sephiroth's heart in his head, a slow, strong beat, like it had the night he'd gotten his first, accidental dose of Sephiroth's cells. Only now it was his heartbeat, too, slowing down to two-four time. He began to panic, gasping for air, suddenly sure he was dying; Sephiroth laid a hand over his recalcitrant heart, pressed their foreheads together, speaking quiet reassurance that Lazard couldn't quite understand for the underwater ringing in his ears. Sephiroth combed his fingers through his hair, still talking softly, stroking his chest, and as minutes passed and Lazard continued to find himself alive, the panic waned and his ability to breathe normally returned.

"Are you alright?" Sephiroth asked.

"I think so." Lazard felt like he might have hyperventilated at some point, but the panic was over, fading fast. "I feel a little like I did when I tripped at a party, once."

"I think I understand what you mean." When Sephiroth spoke, shining letters in a language Lazard didn't quite recognise fell from his lips. He tried to catch one; it melted in his hand like snow. "It won't stay like this, in a state of flux. There will be a new equilibrium."

"It isn't bad. I think I'm getting used to it."

Sephiroth drew him in again, seeking a kiss. Fine shivers passed through his body, breaking in little waves wherever he touched Lazard, and he seemed very hot, even more than his usual high basal temperature. Lazard stroked his sides, feeling feverish body heat pouring through his coat. "Sephiroth --"

Sephiroth huffed, sticky cheek against his, hot breath ruffling the hair against his neck. "Lazard, I think I'm changing," he said. "Would you please -- please close your eyes. Don't look. Until I say so."

"If you need me to." Lazard did what Sephiroth asked, and Sephiroth kissed his closed eyelids, one after the other, burning brands.

"Thank you."

He heard Sephiroth unclipping his armor and undoing his buckles, the slide of metal and leather to the floor. Sephiroth hummed, soothing, working on yet more buckles, his boots and belts; finally Lazard heard the familiar tut of mild annoyance as he shimmied out his tight pants. He thought about peeking -- what would Sephiroth look like, now, naked, wreathed in a gauze of mutually hallucinatory light? -- but Sephiroth _tsk_ ed at him. "Don't look until I tell you. Please." His voice sounded strained, deep and thick.

Standing with eyes closed, seeing sparks behind his eyelids, and faintly aware of what Sephiroth was seeing -- the broken glass, the reactor walls, Lazard swaying gently on his feet, clothes and mouth smeared with thin blue blood -- made Lazard rather dizzy, so he sat down. He really did feel mostly fine, good, even, though he was aware of Sephiroth winding tighter very nearby, breathing deeply and rippling like the surface a dark pond.

The tension didn't break, but was carefully released, disappating. The space which Sephiroth occupied melted and flowed, utterly silent, the air his shape displaced breathing out into the reactor.

 _Do you think you'll be afraid?_ Sephiroth asked, without talking, quiet, plucking his mind like a shy child plucking a sleeve. 

"I'm never afraid of you."

_You can open your eyes, if you want._

Sephiroth had changed, grown larger; he was kneeling but somehow he towered over Lazard, arms like pillars, naked skin blue and green with shifting patterns that flickered, lit from within by a suffusing golden glow. His face was beatific as ever, his own eyes closed, long silver lashes fanned across his cheeks. Above him his hair streamed without reference to local gravity, free as light. Lazard reached up to stroke his cheek, but Sephiroth was just out of his range; he lowered himself, bowed over Lazard, letting himself be drawn down.

"This is real, right? Or are we imagining it?"

 _Probably real / Not sure / No opinion,_ Sephiroth thought all at once. Lazard winced.

"Uhh, one thought at a time, for now, please?" He stroked Sephiroth's long jawline to his ear, finding a lock of silver hair. The silky strands coiled loosely around his hand as if of their own volition. Sephiroth's whole body hummed faintly, the first audible noise he'd made.

"Sephiroth? Are you alright?"

_Yes. This is temporary, part of the genetic flux._

"It didn't hurt?"

_No. Uncomfortable, before, but it's fine now._

The more Lazard looked at him, the larger and more detailed he seemed to become, as if the true nature of his shape were impossible to behold at once and had to be adapted to, his mind eased by the more familiar lineaments before it could accept how the blue-gray skin of his doubly-broad shoulders seemed scaled in feathers. How his massive arms, supporting the forward bulk of his torso against the reactor platform floor, ended in bunches of thin white tendrils rather than hands. How two dark, hard, hornlike projections swept back from the sides of his head, lost and found in the flowing masses of silver. How the smile on his curving, dark-lipped mouth was exactly the same.

Sephiroth laughed silently, rich and deeply amused, and his body hummed out loud again. Lazard scowled. "It's hardly fair that you reply before I can even ask you!"

_Can't help it. You want to kiss me, even like this._

"'Even like this...?' You're beautiful and you know it."

_Like to hear you say it._

"Beautiful, beautiful. Vain, too, but gorgeous."

Sitting up on the floor, even with Sephiroth doubled over, still barely afforded Lazard enough leeway to reach a kiss, and he still felt too dizzy to stand. Something was off about the relationship between his eyesight and proprioception, and the sense of gravity at his head seemed directed towards Sephiroth, while the gravity at his seat still attached him to the floor. He didn't dare stand. Sephiroth shifted his foreward weight to his right arm, and used the palmlike, changed hand of his left to lift him up, its white tendrils -- hundreds of them, each thin and fine alone, massed together into sturdy bundles -- wrapping delicately around his waist and thighs. Lazard slung his arms around Sephiroth's neck, burying each hand deep in his mane, and kissed him.

This close, Sephiroth was huge, and definitely generating at least the illusion of an odd gravity field. His teeth were sharper, his tongue long, far longer than before, but he tasted the same. Lazard kissed each corner of his mouth in turn, the corner of his jaw and the hollow underneath it.

"Are you going to reply before I can ask?"

 _For_ that, _prefer you do ask first._

"Fair enough," Lazard said, swallowing. "Do you think, like this, could we... Well..."

_...Yes, we could._

The certain lust which accompanied that thought made Lazard shiver. He wanted Sephiroth. Sephiroth wanted him.

Even like this.

Something bulged in the crook of his bent lower body, white and rounded as a pearl, almost wider than Lazard's waist. His shudder to see such a thing emerging from Sephiroth's body, right between his legs, was not apprehension; he knew Sephiroth had no intention of trying to shove such a thing in him, and could merely admire it. As it lengthened it split, then split again, dividing into a dozen or so appropriately-scaled limbs, blunt-ended and body-hot as they just kept growing, coiling up and all around him. Several slithered up his back, holding him, and Sephiroth slipped one of these across his shoulder, letting it nudge at his neck and jaw. Another presented itself at inspection distance from his face. It was Sephiroth's cock, white instead of dusky pink, outrageously long. And multiplied.

"Overachiever," Lazard laughed, breathless, feeling his heart knock up to more erstwhile-normal speeds at the display. Sephiroth bussed the organ against his cheek and across his lips, and Lazard licked it. Definitely Sephiroth's cock, the unshielded taste of which he was still delightfully new to, sharp and mako-laced, heady as a plunge already taken. He let it in, the first several inches filling his mouth to its capacity, shivering to think that there were several feet of cock held in reserve behind it. And this was just one of them.

Finer tendrils stroked his hair and ears, probed the corners of his stretched lips. From his neck to his feet, he was being undressed, buttons worried at and belt buckle fumbled with, Sephiroth charmingly clumsy at first with his mass of novel limbs, trying not to damage any clothing even in his obviously urgent longing to divest Lazard of it. Despite being held fast by several looping, firm limbs, Lazard wriggled and helped shed his shirt and pants. As soon as any skin was exposed, Sephiroth was sliding his cocks across it, slippery-headed and rubbing, between and under Lazard's pectorals, under his arms, against his navel, several vying for his cock and slipping between his buttocks. When his socks went, a cock each found the arches of his feet. He laughed, muffled against the cockhead rubbing against his hard palate -- Sephiroth, no matter his shape, certainly had his idiosyncratic preferences.

One of the flexible limbs formed a tight, dense coil around Lazard's cock, squeezing and shifting before loosening up just enough for it to wedge its own head and first several inches into the coil alongside Lazard. It slid and bumped up against Lazard's cock, the corona of its head prominent and hard against the underside of his own, steadily leaking slippery fluid to ease the friction as it thrust in and out of the rhythmically tensing and relaxing coils. Lazard moaned against the cock shallowly fucking his mouth, and Sephiroth pulled him closer, his long tongue licking up Lazard's throat to his ear as he rumbled in his own pleasure, licking across Lazard's cheek, licking his stretched lips and trying vainly to stick his tongue in his occupied lips, as if he meant to kiss him even while he fucked his mouth. Every part of his body was overwhelmed by Sephiroth, touched intimately, a two-way conduit of lust.

Lazard came with a choked cry, slicking the cock that had been frotting him even further. Sephiroth eased off, pulling out from his mouth, though the spit-wet cock didn't go far, nestling under Lazard's chin, twitching impatently. The limb that had been rubbing its smooth length in the cleft of his buttocks now teased at his hole, leaking copious hot fluid as thin tendrils circled and probed him shallowly. Lazard gasped, groaning as his own cock jumped unexpectedly once again in its now-slackened embrace.

_Will you let me in?_

"Please," Lazard said. That's what had gotten them into this terrible delight in the first place; why stop now? He wanted Sephiroth to come, come in him, knew he'd be careful and mindful even as he tested Lazard's heightened but still delicate limits. "Yes, fuck me, please."

Sephiroth kissed him, inviting Lazard to lick into his mouth and bite his lips, panting into him as the tendrils exploring his entrance grew bolder, questing deeper, rubbing and stretching, coating him inside with slick wetness. One or two found his prostate and rubbed, unerring, bringing his cock back to hardness that it had barely had time to abate from. Lazard clung for dear life, sucking Sephiroth's tongue as tendrils spread him and the slippery cock beneath him eased in.

He buried his head in the feathery crook of Sephiroth's neck, breathing deep. It was thicker than Sephiroth usually was, but he was so slick and willing the stretch felt amazing, drawing a flush to his cheeks and chest, warmth spreading in his belly from where the cock leaned hard on his prostate. Slim tendrils continued to tease and dip into his hole as the big cock pushed deep, far deeper than Sephiroth could have gone before, until Lazard squirmed and whimpered against him, and Sephiroth eased back out, leaving just the head inside for Lazard to tremble and try to buck on, hips held tight in a muscular embrace. Sephiroth had him entirely at his mercy.

"Sephiroth," Lazard begged, far beyond any embarrassment, "please just fuck me, please -- ah, oh gods, ohgods --"

He did what he was told, sliding his cock in slow and hard, while a second and third cock twined around Lazard's erection. Another found his lips again, shallowly fucking in time with the cock in his ass, letting him lick and suck, stifling his moans. Tendrils coaxed at his ass, slipping inside, doggedly seeking to stretch him even further as the cock fucking him twisted and worked different angles, its slippery precum leaking out of him onto the coils of yet another cock. It teased his entrance, just slipping in as the first just slipped out, until they both went in together, tightly wound as clasped hands and bigger than anything he'd ever taken before. A tendril, thin and flexible, had gotten itself worked inside his cock, jerking him off from within. It didn't prevent him from coming, again, his whole-throated moans letting the cock in his mouth slide deeper.

Sephiroth's body rung like a bell, a vibration lower than sound, and his huge chest worked like a bellows. For a moment he blurred, the light inside him shifting rapidly as a firestorm, and Lazard saw Sephiroth's human face through one eye and saw -- thought he saw -- something else though the other eye, something still Sephiroth but different, other, changed so beautifully it bordered on terror. Lazard squeezed his eyes shut, and Sephiroth came, cocks tensing deep in his belly, down his throat, across his chest and against Lazard's own cock, against his feet and in his hands. Hot, pulsing waves of pleasure -- his or Sephiroth's; the distinction had momentarily become meaningless -- poured and echoed throughout his body. His cells sang.

He saw stars again, gasping in a shining darkness. Sephiroth was still coming, in seemingly endless waves, and the stars wheeled on an axis of unendurable bliss.

\------

Lazard woke up to the sound of rain against a windowpane. The light coming through the drawn curtains was gray and heavy, and the divot in the middle of the mattress was very deep and warm. The feather pillow was soft and cozy, its musty old smell reminding him faithfully of childhood, and the feather blanket wrapped around him kept the cold of October far at bay.

He slowly recognized the interior of the Nibelheim inn. Still tired and sore all over, he sat up gingerly, rubbing his gritty eyes and scratching the stubble on his cheek. The feather blanket shifted with him in an odd way, and he realized he was really quite hungry and thirsty. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up back at the inn. Hadn't he just been at the reactor, with the Firsts, going to deal with Jenova? Sephiroth had crushed her, he'd --

Oh. Oh my. Lazard was finished waking up now. He blushed; he still didn't recall how he'd gotten down the mountain, but the last thing he remembered was Sephiroth... Well.

He swung his legs experimentally out of bed. The soreness was mild, considering. He had a pair of boxers on, at least, and was clean and scrubbed, if unshaven and feeling disgusting in the mouth. When he stood up, the feather blanket came with him.

Who made a blanket out of feathers?

Lazard tugged on it, and found it was quite attached to his body. He looked behind him, into a faceful of offwhite wing, growing from a mass of downy pale fluff from his left shoulder. The primaries, shading from golden eggshell to violet at the tips, almost reached the floor. He blinked, flexing his arm, and the whole wing twitched.

"Huh." That had definitely not been there before.

"The color suits you, I think," Sephiroth said, smiling, lounging in the doorway holding a heavily laden tea-tray. Lazard's heart flipped and stomach growled at once, and he had to sit back down. Now that he knew the wing was there, he had no idea where to put the thing without crumpling feathers or knocking over a lamp.

"I. Uh. Shouldn't be surprised, and yet it is rather sudden. Though that does seem to be the way of it, uh, all." Lazard was aware he was bright red, remembering the likely proximate cause of him receiving enough of Sephiroth's cells to physically change. "You look normal again...?"

Sephiroth set the delicious-smelling tray on the bedside table near Lazard, and carefully manipulated his wing into a comfortable, tucked position, smoothing feathers and carding his fingers through the down around its joint as he did. "I'm three centimeters taller than two days ago, but otherwise, yes."

" _Two_ days?"

"Hhnn, yes. You slept for about twenty-four hours, after I carried you back. Everyone was a bit tired. You should drink something."

Lazard tried to sip from his glass of water slowly, but he was parched and ended it in a few gulps instead. Sephiroth flopped down next to him, stretching long legs across to the next bed over. The cuffs of his pants didn't seem to reach his bare ankles as neatly as before.

"How am I supposed to wear my clothes with this thing?" Lazard said, in between mouthfuls of toast.

"Genesis seems to manage. We can ask him."

Lazard shrugged and ate, washing down eggs and rashers with a few cups of strong black tea, and even making a good-faith effort at eating the grayish slices of boiled turnip that lurked on the edge of his plate. After a few bites, Sephiroth ended up eating the rest, being not particularly picky about accepting anything with a few spare calories. Stomach satisfied, Lazard turned to his partner, who was humming quietly and twirling his hair around a finger, looking sideways at Lazard with undisguised affection. He could not only see it on his beautiful face, but feel it radiating off him, soft fond feelings quiet but intelligible as a few murmured words in the shared room of their heart.

Lazard's heart was still beating in half time. He laid his palm on Sephiroth's bare chest, knowing exactly what he'd feel there, too.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"Whatever we want, I think."

Lazard smiled, listening to Sephiroth hum, and the rain soak the town outside. "Honestly? I think I'd like to take another nap."


End file.
